That's a Pretty Small Pea Pod

Have you ever had a conversation with someone where you couldn't muster the smallest bit of interest in what they were saying? Most likely, yes. A sad-but-true fact of life is that not everybody is interesting, and that not everyone has something worthwhile to contribute to the world. Some people are just plain boring. Being boring can be like a disease; you can be born boring, you can become boring, or you can even cure yourself of being boring. In The Circle, Mae has caught the boring disease, and Mercer gives her the diagnosis: “Mae, do you realize how incredibly boring you’ve become?” (263).

Whether or not Mercer is correct in calling Mae "boring" (263) depends on one's personal definition of the word. Personally, I believe a boring person is someone who has nothing interesting or worthwhile to contribute to their individual world or to the world at large. I also believe that  no one is inherently boring, but that people can choose to act, live, or interact in a way that is uninteresting or non-productive. 

If I juxtapose Mae with my definition of boring, I see two peas in a pod. 

To Mercer, and to me, Mae is boring because she does not contribute anything of significance or of interest to the world; her entire life has become interpersonal interaction with strangers. If all of one's life is purely interactive, and all of one's experiences are purely interactive, it follows that one never has active experiences. I personally believe that Mae was boring from the start, but at least she had some interesting things going for her, something unique to contribute due to the active parts of her life. She is now just another Circler experiencing a perfunctory existence.

When Mercer tells Mae that her existence is now boring, she gets very angry at him. The reason why Mae gets so angry is because she knows he's right. As Mae becomes more integrated into life at the Circle, as she adds more screens to her day, more followers, more zings, more everything, she knows that something is not right. She feels "a tiny tear in what seemed to be black cloth, and through this tiny tear she heard the screams of millions of invisible souls" (197). Mercer even alludes to this when speaking to her about how she's become boring; he says "'Every time I see you, there’s a hundred other people in the room. You’re always looking at me through a hundred other people’s eyes'" (132). Both acknowledge that the constant feeling of being surrounded by millions is negative. Mae knows that this 'tear' can be attributed to her time at the Circle and the uncertainty of not knowing everything all of the time. 

Her acknowledgement of the tear proves that she is cognizant of the negative effects of her lifestyle and acknowledges that her life now, a virtual life, is different from her life before the Circle, a real life. 

Before the plot of The Circle picks up its pace and Mae begins to become fully integrated, before she finally chooses to completely ignore the tear in her and the words of her loved ones, she makes one final trip out into the bay. This event is significant because she recognizes the uncertainty all around her and finds wonder in it, supposing that "It was enough to be aware of the million permutations possible around her, and take comfort in knowing she would not, and really could not, know much at all" (272). This is in stark contrast to a Circle mantra, "ALL THAT HAPPENS MUST BE KNOWN" (68). In this contradiction Mae proves that she knows the difference between a real and a virtual life.

And there definitely is a difference between real and virtual life. The wonder of real life is that unknowns are acknowledged and explored. A virtual life denies that uncertainty exists and tries its damnedest to convince its denizens that this is the truth.

I do not believe that today's social media culture is a proponent of this denial of uncertainty to the extent that The Circle's is. Most of our interactions over social media are predated by 'real' interaction; the only people who have 'significant' interactions with masses of strangers are celebrities. There is certainly an interesting parallel between transparent Circlers and the celebrities in our culture, but that's a different idea for a different post. 

No, I Can't Give You a Reference from Wizardly Wizards Inc.

You remember what the guidance counselors and the college reps told us in high school: never put anything publicly online unless it's something you're willing to have come up in an interview. You don't want to apply for a job and find out the employer is against college drinking culture after he or she sees your red cut photo album on Facebook, privacy set to public. I don't want a future employer to read my Facebook profile and see that I used to work at "Wizardly Wizards" as Professor of the Dark Farts (job description: keeping all of the prisoners in Asskaban), and a future employer won't see that since I intentionally erased it from my profile.

The fact that I can remove things like this from my profile implies that this data that I own is mine, and is therefore inherently private.

In the Circle, however, I wouldn't be able to erase this data, or any, for that matter. As Annie says, "'We don't delete here, Mae'" (206). This is an interesting difference between our world and the world that Eggers has created in The Circle. In both worlds, privacy and data are connected. However, they are connected in different ways; the relationship between privacy and data differs between the world we know and the world that Mae is coming to know in the Circle.

In our world, you can get rid of something online with relative ease in almost any case. Tagged in an embarrassing photo on Facebook? Just un-tag yourself or report it. Don't want people to know where you lived when you were younger? Then simply don't provide that data. In our world, quantifying ourselves online is not required, and is sometimes even looked down upon; in our world, data is private, and we can choose whether or not to share information about ourselves (as long as we are abiding the law, etc.). There aren't many consequences to posting personal data online because it can easily be deleted (and yes, I know, stuff is never really gone, but no one except this class is going to know that I worked to keep the prisoners in Asskaban unless they do some real digging). As a result of personal data being private in our world, it can easily be assumed that most people won't share everything about themselves online and that data cannot accurately describe a person in his or her entirety.

However, in Mae's world, the world of the Circle, quantifying one's self online is quintessential. TruYou, "your one identity" (21), is the epitome of this concept. It is literally a collection of data, of ones and zeroes, that quantifies your identity. All of your personal information, all of your private information, is kept in an online database with access delegated by the Circle, making all of your private information, such as date of birth, address, phone number, email, social security number, banking information, and so on, available for anyone given access to that information by the Circle. Your data is no longer your data, and your data is no longer private. In Mae's world, data is public, the polar opposite of the world we live in. Though most people have accepted it, Mae struggles with it when she is analyzed onstage during the LuvLuv presentation. Having her private data become truly public embarrasses her, revealing what she truly feels about the Circle's no-privacy-allowed culture.

To conclude, data and privacy are related in both our world and in Mae's, but in completely opposite ways. To us, our personal data is private, and it should stay that way. This is also how Mae feels, but rather than admit it and go against the raging current of the Circle's peer pressure, she caves to their idea of total quantitative publicity.

Drink the (Figurative and Literal) Punch!

Source

Penn State and the Circle want you to do it figuratively, but that guy you met five minutes ago at this sweltering party wants you to do it literally.

But in all seriousness, Both Penn State and the Circle want their respective members to buy into the culture, to make relationships within the community, and learn all the chants. Dave Eggers' Circle, the most innovative internet company in his novel's fictional world, is eerily similar to the totally non-fictional modern university, and is strikingly similar to Penn State in particular. The Circle and Penn State share values, including the encouragement of total immersion; they share a disquieting amount  of practices, as well, including dorm living, orientations, and partying. However, they also are dissimilar in some respects; , the mantras each supports are not alike, and some of the practices of each are different.

There is no doubt that we freshman have stood in the onslaught of messages encouraging us to become 'part of the Penn State community.' One of the most memorable points made at our new student convocation was made by President Barron. He told us not to drive our 'Penn State sports car' at low speeds, because we are to make the best of our time here by taking advantage of all of the opportunites available to us. At Penn State, you can join the Knittany Lions, a THON Group, the Coffee Club, a student council, or anything you want. The Circle also encourages total immersion by offering numerous events and clubs, such as the parties, the daily featured activities (6),  to innovative speakers in the Great Hall (59). Both the Circle and Penn State put value on their employees and students, respectively, fully immersing themselves in life on campus.

Speaking of campus, this is one term that the Circle and Penn State both use, implying a community within an area. Both also convey a commitment to global improvement; Penn State's motto is "Making Life Better," and the Circle claims throughout the novel that every one of its innovations is meant to improve the lives of people throughout the world. Some of the mantras, however, differ. For example, Penn State's 'We Are' implies a closed community with a set of values distinct from those of other groups, whereas the Circle casts a wide net of inclusion with its "ALL THAT HAPPENS MUST BE KNOWN" (68); the Circle wants to include everyone. Also, the Circle insists that sharing is caring in all cases, though Penn State encourages us to safeguard our personal information. 

Though their mantras may differ, the institutions have eerily similar practices. For example, some students at Penn State live in dorms, and some Circlers live in dorms. Dorm life creates a closeness between peers that promotes immersion in campus life, which both institutions encourage. Both also run orientation programs headed by peppy, diverse orientation leaders, people who know what it's like to drink the punch and will definitely mix some up for you if you ask (or even if you don't). Partying is an integral part of social life at both Penn State and the Circle. These practices all support the encouragement of total immersion into campus life.

Despite all of these similarities, Penn State's and the Circle's practices do digress in some respects. Unlike at the Circle, we students don't get paid to live on campus or use any of the resources available to us; instead, we have to (literally and figuratively) pay into the institution and the values it promotes, whereas the Circle makes the punch readily available. Parties at the circle are also more legal, held on campus, and less exclusive than parties here at Penn State, making them more integrated into social life there than here. The only thing I liked about the Circle was the possibility of centralized online information; sure, I'm scared of a company like the Circle monopolizing everything, but I'm also lazy and don't want to have to click between CANVAS and ANGEL and LionPATH and eLion and eLiving and myUHS and SRS and WebMail and so on and so on.

After analyzing the similarities and differences between the Circle and Penn State, I think it's safe to say that the two institutions are different where it matters; the Circle's most radical and dangerous values and practices are not present at Penn State. We only have to drink the literal punch here.

Static Friction

Weird title, huh? Well, if you know me, which you probably don't, you know I love physics. If you love physics, you'll know what static friction is; if you're reading this post, you'll know soon enough (because I'm going to tell you what it is). Static friction is the friction that must be overcome to start the movement of an inanimate object.

The inanimate object is my progress on this blog post.

I've had a lot of trouble beginning the process of really hashing out ideas for my passion blog. I think it's safe to say that most of us don't think daily, or actively, about our passions. This quote from the blog Free Range Humans by Marianne Cantwell sums it up pretty well: 

"Who in the real world ever even thinks about passions? Seriously, who says 'oh I can’t go out with you tonight because that’s not one of my PASSIONS'."

(You can access the full article here, though I don't necessarily endorse all of Ms. Cantwell's assertions.)

Since I am a person who rarely thinks about her passions, it took a lot of digging to come up with the ideas presented below. I have pinpointed at least two of my passions: I am passionate about observing and creating, and I am passionate about TV shows. That brings me to my potential passion blog topics.

Side note: You might be thinking, hey, why doesn't she just write about physics? My question for you is: do you really want to read about physics? I like physics and even I don't want to read about it in my free time. So there's the answer to your question.

 

My first idea is tentatively named Stories from a Park Bench and would involve my sitting on a bench outside, observing passers-by, and inventing stories about significant days in their lives (that may or may not have actually happened), occurring either in the past or in the future. I know it's pretty abstract, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I kind of feel like I ripped off Overheard at the HUB, and that the content could be construed the wrong way; there's a chance that racial or gender-based stereotypes could affect the stories, and I don't want anyone to be offended. I also believe that I might not have the experience to see things from so many different perspectives. Let me know what you think about this idea.

My second idea, which is my favorite, is (very) tentatively named "Not all good-looking people are cool", with the subtitle 'and other lessons from Freaks and Geeks'. The show is pretty hilarious:

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But it also has a lot of great life lessons and is very relatable. For the blog, I would watch an episode and analyze the use of music, visuals, and dialogue, as well as extracting some of the lessons and applying them to my life (and our lives) now. The first and last blogs would be on the series premiere and finale, and the other eight blogs would each cover two episodes at once. This, I believe, is the better of my two ideas. Again, let me know what you think. 

I also had an idea on the fly for a blog called One and Done that reviews one-season TV shows. I would give opinions on how good I think the show is and then try to guess why it only ran for one season. Then I would do research to find out why and talk about whether or not I agree. This is the least developed idea, but I think I like it as much as the Freaks and Geeks idea.

Let me know what you think of these ideas! I'm excited for some peer feedback.

All sources of non-original information are linked within the post.